


In the Metro

by celestialcollectionaus19



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drabble, Family, Family Feels, Gen, One Shot, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 22:04:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7332382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialcollectionaus19/pseuds/celestialcollectionaus19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Myrcella is back in King's Landing for the summer. In the metro, on the way to a friend's house, she unexpectedly runs into another Lannister. Who would've known?</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Metro

**Author's Note:**

> Originally part of a larger series set in Modern Westeros. I found this short one-shot while looking through my email.

Myrcella finds herself nodding along to the screaming music pounding through her earbuds as she descends into Visenya's Hill Metro Station. Down below, the air is dank, musty, vaguely reminiscent of urine. She passes a few street musicians, an old man sleeping under layers of old jackets, drops a coin in the cup of a begging Naathi boy. A few young men in suits and ties pass her, coffee container in one hand and falling-apart leather case in the next. The girl in front of her lights up a joint, not a care in the world. 

Mother would have a fit if she knew how Myrcella goes from one friend's house to the next during holidays. She gives each of them money just for that, to take cabs and not need to frequent the scum of the underworld. But Myrcella wants to see it for herself, wishes even to become a part of them. Sometimes it seems that it would be better. The masses have it so easy, don't they?

The train is packed with the sweating, obnoxious, selfish people of the capital. Myrcella manages to squeeze in just in time and stands in between two young women in tight leather outfits and tiny black skirts. She counts the stops by watching the red light flicker from one station to the next. Crownlands University. King's Landing University. 

The two girls leave, adjusting their skirts, tightening the metal cufflinks, and the doors jerk to a close. A few Braavosi tourists spill in, talking loudly among themselves and pointing out Metro stops on their map of the subway system. Myrcella catches a few words here and there. From the other end of the carriage, an old woman yells at a group of rowdy students for one of them to give up their seat for her. No one does, and Myrcella turns away. The old woman is still yelling, and Myrcella thinks that it is unfortunate, how no one will spare a glance towards her. And then the shouts stop. 

There's whispering. The Braavosi tourists have stopped speaking so loudly. Myrcella cranes her neck, sees the old woman sitting. A small boy next to her tugs at his mother's sleeve. "Mummy, what happened?" he says softly yet clearly, his reedy voice ringing through the carriage, his hand pointing. 

"Stop that," hisses his mother. A few passengers move closer to the sides to let someone pass, a bearded man with large shadows under his eyes and one hand. 

Myrcella's eyes widen. She stands up straighter, calls out, "Uncle Jaime!" It's an impulse. A strange impulse, given the fact that she barely knows him and that he's made next to no effort to ever know her. 

He turns. "Myrcella," he says, raising his eyebrows. "Wasn't expecting to see you here." 

She worries briefly about him telling her mother, then decides that she doesn't care. She'll be back in Sunspear in less than two months, anyway, back with Trystane and Rosamund and everybody at Sunspear Prep. This bi-yearly return to the capital is just a reminder of how foreign she has become. 

Moving aside to let him grab the pole too, Myrcella ponders what to say to him. She's only met him a handful of times - during the holidays and when he would visit her mother on leave. She wants to ask him why he is underground. From what she's heard, even in spite of his deployment to Qarth, he remains a man far above the people. But perhaps that is only hearsay. Her family thrives on hearsay. 

"Where are you headed?" she finally asks him. 

"I-" He tucks his right arm into his pocket, as if he realized that it makes her more uncomfortable than she cares to admit. "The Dragon Gate." 

The terminus, Myrcella realizes. At least five more stops in company of a stranger. If this were anybody else, she'd be chattering away -- the weather, King's Landing's roads, you name it. But what do you say to an uncle who's been away at war for your entire life? 

"Oh," she says. "I'm stepping out at Baelor." 

"The next stop, then." 

"Yes, I'm meeting a friend." A half-lie. Or is it half-truth? No, Myrcella thinks again, half-lie. Lannisters are made for lying, never mind that she isn't even Lannister herself. She tightens her scarf. It is autumn, winter is coming, and the frigid wind blowing through the streets of King's Landing is enough to burn her fingers off. And yes, she will be walking to her friend's house, past the Great Sept and away from her uncle. 

The train jerks to a halt. A clear female voice says over the speakers: "Great Sept of Baelor." Myrcella waves to her uncle, pulls down her hat, walks out of the subway. 

Relief.


End file.
